


Symbiosis

by BewareTheIdes15



Series: J2M!AU [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen’s life isn’t anything like a situation he would have ever imagined himself in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

> For morganoconner

Jensen’s life isn’t anything like a situation he would have ever imagined himself in. He’s always been… fastidious is a good word. Precise. A bona fide expert in overthinking it. That is, he supposes, a part of the reason that the three of them work so well.

A point of illustration: Jensen didn’t realize until he a bachelor’s degree in hand that the reason none of the women in his life had ever been anything more than ‘in his life’ was that what he was really looking for involved another dick – or two, as the case may be. Jared, meanwhile, had accepted and run with his bisexuality before he’d even learned the appropriate term for it; sometime in the middle of fifth grade. Misha has simply never been one to put labels on anything. Jensen has a professional-grade label-maker with five different shades of printer tape so that he can keep things color coded.

It shouldn’t work, and yet somehow it does.

If anything, it seems like having three people in a relationship would only make it more complicated than just the usual two, but thus far it has never worked out that way. Just like any other relationship, there are issues – certainly it would be nice to have a romantic situation that allows for simple explanations at cocktail parties and business functions, to say nothing of family gatherings – but in the main, having a third partner seems to keep them all grounded. It’s a matter of never being alone in things and for all that Jensen’s always been a private person, he hasn’t missed the solitude for a single moment.

The fact that they are three grown men with above-average libidos probably doesn’t hurt things in that department. Particularly moments like now when Misha is speared open by Jared’s cock, laid bare for Jensen’s gaze.

The two of them together are a thing to behold; Jared’s natural bronze accented by the soft glow of the bedside lamps, juxtaposed by Misha’s pale, smooth skin; Jared’s stark lines of muscle intercut with Misha, lithe and whipcord lean. Misha looks so small this way, his legs spread so wide it seems impossible – Jensen thanks the powers that be once more for Misha’s enthusiasm toward yoga – bent in what would almost qualify as the bottom portion of a standard missionary position if it weren’t for the obvious, eye-catching stretch of his hole sucking around the base of Jared’s cock.

Jensen’s letting Jared get things started since he’s the largest and thus, naturally, the most difficult to accommodate in this situation. Also, Jensen has a relatively moderate voyeuristic streak – which he privately believes his boyfriends are trying to foster into a full-blown fetish – and watching the slow, lube-shiny push of Jared’s thick shaft into Misha just does things to him.

Jared’s hand – seeming even larger when he’s watching it spread out over Misha’s body than when he’s simply feeling it on his own – splays out over a slim hip, fingers curling around the semi-constant bob of Misha’s hard-on. He doesn’t do anything more than hold it, though, no attempts to stoke or bring him off. Not yet. Miles to go before they sleep.

In his head, Jensen has worked out a well-honed timeline for this – getting three orgasms to coincide is a challenge he doubts most people can truly appreciate – based on their individual speed and stamina and the fact that Misha generally opens up reasonably easily. His boyfriends are really screwing with all of that though because it’s incredibly hard to keep track of little things like time when Misha is tipping his head back against Jared’s shoulder and opening his mouth for the slow push of Jared’s tongue. Jensen mentally puts a star by the ‘sex tape’ entry on his sexual to-do list – it’s getting both longer and shorter by the day.

There is every possibility that this may have been Jensen’s idea in the first place – he’d certainly thought about it plenty of times before the offer went on the table - but honestly he’s not sure any more.

There are at least a dozen things Jensen’s certain he never would have had any interest in doing before their arrangement – he’s still adamant that chocolate syrup isn’t meant for any of the things they ended up using it as but damn if walking down the toppings aisle at the grocery store doesn’t get his dick leaking all over again – that have become highlights of his sexual and/or romantic history, all of which he owes to some fantasy of Jared’s or Misha’s. It has also led him to having some serious suspicions that the two of them have developed some kind of evil alliance with the sole purpose of making Jensen blush over every innocuous household object they own. He has no idea what they’re going to do when his parents come to visit because there’s not a single flat surface in the apartment he’ll be able to allow them to sit on.

It is at least somewhat gratifying that anyone who’s ever taken one look at Jared or Misha, let alone the two of them together, would have no choice but to forgive Jensen for succumbing to a life of wanton sexual vice.

The flex of Jared’s thighs is almost mesmerizing as he grinds up into Misha’s ass, gaining and losing that one inch over and over on a fluid roll of his hips. Misha groans with abandon, one hand going white-knuckled on Jared’s wrist, not forcing him to stroke the precome-soaked cock still jumping in his loose fist even though they both obviously want to, the other slipping behind his balls to finger at the place where their bodies join. For just a moment the tip of Misha’s curled finger disappears inside the flushed rim, sandwiched in next to Jared’s cock, and a moan of disbelieving pleasure choruses among them.

Jared isn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, in any aspect of his body or personality, but his dick is really… well, suffice to say, Jensen wasted far too many years imagining what sort of increasingly ridiculous proportions his best friend might be packing below the belt and he was in no way disappointed when he got his confirmation. If he were a less confident man, Jensen might actually be jealous; as it is he’s mostly just mind-numbingly grateful with a side of slightly concerned about how much more Misha can take.

Apparently that brief sensation of Misha’s finger sliding in alongside of him was too much for Jared to resist – he’s incredibly impulsive in bed, not that anyone’s complaining – and he’s almost immediately got one of his own crooked just so to stretch the pulled-thin rim to obscene proportions. That impulsiveness also tends to be contagious, Jensen has found, because he’s no sooner marveling at the shape of Jared’s long finger outlined in delicate flesh than he’s pressing one of his own in along with it.

For a second the tight heat of it steals his breath, the overwhelming realization that this is all three of them at once, held together by nothing but one another. There’s probably some sort of beautiful metaphor to be made out of it but oh, seriously, fuck it, this is the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

There’s more than enough lube already, the mess of it glazing Jared’s sac and probably dribbling down over his hole too so that if one were to decide to… Ugh, see what he means – impossible to concentrate. It’s probably a good thing Jared doesn’t work with them; all of their careers would take a nosedive.

But yes, lube, lots of lube, plenty of lube, so much of it that it streaks down over Jensen’s knuckles as he tentatively presses a second finger inside, feeling the shudder and shake of muscles reflexively trying to push him out before they give up the fight.

Jared’s hands are plastered to the inside of Misha’s thigh now, the low of his belly, not even touching his cock – maybe as aware as Jensen is that one second of contact is liable to set off a chain reaction – while Misha’s flail helplessly at nothing, anything. And Jensen? Jensen’s groping Jared’s dick from inside Misha’s body, fingers tracing over the vein on the underside, curling around the edges like a grip with nothing but the V of two fingers.

He’s going to die. He’s actually going to perish from the hot.

A part of him – a big part maybe, but all of his edges are a little blurry at the moment, bleeding into himself the way the three of them are bleeding into one another – is scared shitless, no point in denying it. Misha isn’t even playing at being coherent, mouth open on an uncontrolled stream of sound that never quite settles into the expression of one emotion before it’s tipping into another. His head is lolling against Jared’s shoulder, body wracked by constant, hypothermic-esque trembles punctuated with sudden spasms like he’s going into rigors from the sensory overload.

If it wasn’t for the fact that his balls have drawn up so tight it looks like they’re trying to become one with his dick and that said dick is leaking like a broken faucet -so soaked it’s only by virtue of it still being granite-hard that Jensen even knows Misha hasn’t come yet - Jensen would call it all off, say it’s too much. But between Misha and Jared, Jensen’s common sense has never stood much of a chance, so with Jared muttering ‘yes, baby, yes’ like a prayer and pistoning himself slowly in and out of Misha, flare of the crown catching on Jensen’s knuckles, he gets his ring finger into the mix. The channel around him barely even puts up a fight.

Jensen groans miserably, ecstatically, at the feel of it, drunk and halfway out of his mind on the power tripping up his spine. Misha’s gone boneless, Jared’s grip keeping him pinned to Jared’s chest, only the shivers trickling down his body in time to the sloppy sucking kisses Jared is dotting his jaw with and heavy lidded blue eyes to say that he’s still aware of what’s going on. It isn’t until Misha’s tongue drags a slow trail to wet his bottom lip that Jensen even remembers he has a dick of his own that might also enjoy being in on the attention.

Which leads them inevitably, inexorably to… _fuck._

 _It won’t work, it just won’t_ , is all that keeps playing through Jensen’s brain. It’s too much, no way is he going to fit in there along with Jared, it’s just not possible. Down deep there’s another voice in him growling that it will, can, _has to_ , that this belongs to him, that he has to _take_ it, _take take take_.

He hears himself lose a hopeless sound as he eases his fingers free, watches the circle of Misha’s opening struggle to close up in their wake. Jared’s still working himself in and out by increments, worrying what’s bound to be a viciously purple mark into the muscle between Misha’s neck and shoulder, too lost to it to do more than fumble blindly at Jensen’s thigh with one hand to try and urge him on.

He can’t, he just can’t, even though the idea of not doing it is like crawling naked over broken glass – just won’t allow himself to risk hurting either of the men he loves.

“Jen,” is more of a slur, rough and deep, hardly recognizable but for the admonition behind it. His gaze hop-skip-jumps up to meet Misha’s eyes, down to slits of black-blown blue; that sharp, doped-up brand of focus in them that means ‘no’ is not going to be a viable option.

Times like this Jensen has to wonder if Misha doesn’t have some sort of subliminal message flashing in the depths of his retinas, a constant blinking dare of ‘do it, do it’ that Jensen has not once managed to deny. His boyfriend gives him a barely perceptible nod before his head is rolling to the side, urging against Jared’s until the two of them are locked in another loud, feverish kiss.

And Jensen just does it. Like it’s natural, like it’s easy, like they’ve done it a thousand times before. He scoots forward on his knees, lines up, a push and muscle gives and then he’s stumbling lost in the soft, tight grasp of Misha on one side of him and the hard velvet slickness of Jared on the other.

The pressure is intense, Misha’s body forcing all of them so close together that there’s no room for a breath between them. Jared keens around Misha’s tongue, the leap of his cock stilted by the grip they’re locked in, his precome dripping down over Jensen as well. His hand shifts back to Jensen’s ass, palming him until he slides in one impossible fraction more. Long fingers slip into his cleft applying just enough pressure to the yet-untouched curl of his hole to make Jensen’s entire body sing with it.

Misha picks that particular moment to give up on the ragdoll routine and start wriggling in Jared’s lap – on both of their dicks, _fucking hell_ – squirming and squeezing, making everything _move_ as if Jensen had a chance of holding on to anything distantly related to sanity to begin with.

The noises Misha’s making aren’t coming out as words; syllables in no arrangement Jensen recognizes. He gets the gist anyway, though, from the fingernails Misha’s gouging into the meat of his shoulder, tugging him forward. His other hand is snarled in Jared’s hair, pulling hard enough that Jared tips his head back and hisses, throat bared in a tempting, sweat-slick line that Jensen can hardly even register because his vision keeps wavering, brain too occupied by his sense of feeling to give much of a damn about sight ever again.

Jensen cares, though, about seeing them, his men, beautiful and wicked and flawless together, with him, all of them. Fuck, he’s not even making sense, and arching his hips back to pull out halfway only to shove roughly back in probably isn’t going to help with that, but he doesn’t care. It’s perfect, feels perfect, and the chorus of sharp keen/sandpaper groan is all he wants in the world.

His head finds a resting place against Misha’s shoulder, sweat turning the contact slick and cool for a moment before it superheats like the rest of Jensen’s body.

He doesn’t really mean for his palm to press flat against Misha’s abs as well, skating tiny, accidental touches over his cock as he gropes the flesh there – some demented part of his brain convinced that he’ll be able to feel the shape of both of them with Misha stuffed this full. What he gets is a broken whine from Misha and twin gasps from himself and Jared as the pressure makes their cocks shift, Jensen’s pressing relentlessly against the raised bundle of nerves that probably accounts for the restless, shocky motions Misha keeps making.

Jared’s pulsing his hips choppily, most of their combined weight keeping his strong body pinned, but it’s still enough to feel electric as he scrapes against Jensen. All soft-hard bumps and curves, sucking pressure so complete it’s almost painful. Jared’s fingers push against Jensen’s opening again, not quite breaching him, just adding another layer to the tingle-burn-itch of almost too much pleasure scaling his nerves with pick-axe claws.

Misha’s movements are uncoordinated, more flailing in the hope of getting what he wants than actually working toward it. Jensen slides most of the way free and punches in again; slower, smoother fucks in answer to the desperate pump of Jared’s hips. Wanting to drag this out just a bit longer.

Every move echoes through each of them, every thrust and shiver and tremble feeding into the trapped connection between them to build in on itself.

“Gonna. Gonna,” Jared babbles. His thighs tighten on either side of Jensen, feet probably flexing into a toe-curled point the way he tends to do, like a caution signal that he’s about to lose himself spectacularly.

Misha yanks harder at the grip he’s got on Jared’s hair, long beautiful throat pulled so taut Jensen can make out the throb of his pulse in the low light just before he’s pressing his lips to it for a hard, finesse-less kiss. Jared can joke all he wants about them sending him into premature baldness, it’s tough to argue when that little move is all it takes to get his cock throbbing hard, battling Jensen for dominance inside their silk-and-heat straightjacket once more before the hot, wet burst of his come is spattering onto Misha’s inner walls, dripping down over Jensen’s own aching cock, flooding them both with searing slick.

Jensen honestly hasn’t a clue which of them whimpers, “Oh fuck,” but it seems like an apt description of the moment.

Approximately eight-tenths of a second later, Misha’s hand is crashing down between Jensen’s shoulder blades, crushing them even tighter together so that the mess of milky heat pulsing out of him gets trapped between their bellies, his sac flexing hard enough as it empties to count out a rhythm against Jensen’s skin.

Any partially-formed fantasy Jensen may have had about fucking them both through the pliant, boneless aftershocks dies a swift and painless death with the clutch of Misha’s body around them, coaxing another feeble spurt out of Jared’s cock before Jensen’s load sends it overflowing down their shafts to puddle against skin and sheets.

Until presented with irrefutable evidence, Jensen’s going to hold firm to his story that he has never blacked out from an orgasm. And no, gong spontaneously snow-blind while he forgets how to hear, speak or move is not the same as blacking out – that’s just savoring the moment.

Afterward, once they’ve all rebooted their brains enough to do a bare-minimum clean up and turn off the lights, they collapse into bed – _their_ bed, that won’t stop being thrilling any time soon – together, sticky and so sated Jensen’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get it up again. Or he wouldn’t be, if he didn’t have a rather painful contradictory twitch in his nether regions practically every ten seconds just from the mental highlights reel.

Misha’s laying in the middle tonight, on his side, Jared curled up against his back while Jensen cradles him from the front. The position would be enough of a reminder to have Jensen’s endorphin high skating into dangerous ‘one more time’ territory even without Misha’s near-constant shudders and sighs, hypersensitive to every coddling touch and kiss.

Jared’s hand is between their stomachs, petting Jensen with the backs of his fingers, Misha with the fronts. Jensen smiles up at him through the dark, worn-out and loopy on satisfaction, doubting Jared can even see it but knowing he’ll feel it regardless. The same way he knows when Jared mirrors the look back at him, settles his lips to the curve of bone just behind Misha’s ear, a particular hot spot of their boyfriend’s. Misha’s breath huffs out soundless, fingers splaying on Jensen’s hip like he stuck his tongue in a light socket before he eases into it and somehow goes even more relaxed than before.

“We are definitely doing that again,” he slurs out after enough time that Jensen’s almost positive he’s asleep. His voice is that impossible low that would seem more fitting on Jared than someone Misha’s size. Jensen does what he can to stifle a hiss when his dick jumps eagerly again. “Soon.”

Jared rumbles something that gets trapped between a laugh and a moan, ends up coming out as both as he pulls Misha back tighter against his chest, leans over his shoulder to catch Jensen’s lips fumblingly with his own.

“Hell yes,” Jared agrees, slick pop as he pulls off of sucking on Jensen’s tongue like a piece of candy. The best answer Jensen can come up with is a guttural noise that comes out about twelve shades needier than he meant it to. Sometimes it floors him how much time they squandered not having this. Sometimes it just floors him that any of them ever managed to live without it in the first place.

He settles in with his head under Misha’s chin, arm flung over both of his men, feet all tangled up together. They’re sticky and over-warm, will probably end up sweaty and uncomfortable enough to wake up in the early morning hours and reshuffle, end up trading lazy kisses and touches until they’re all a mess all over again and can’t keep their eyes open any more.

No, Jensen thinks, it’s not anything like a situation he would have ever imagined himself in. It’s so, so much better.


End file.
